


Plans & Schemes

by MarzgaPerez



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Escape, Jell-O, M/M, Plothole Fill, Prison, Prison fluff, Reunited and It Feels So Good, enzo made me do it, s10e6 fill-in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzgaPerez/pseuds/MarzgaPerez
Summary: Why, Shameless, why? Why would Mickey attempt another escape via a medical waste bin? He’s smarter than that...I know why! It was Enzo’s idea.This fic is sorta silly and sweet and briefly features my two favorite prison characters (aside from Gallavich) — green Jell-O and Enzo!** S10E6 fill-in **
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	Plans & Schemes

Mickey Milkovich didn’t want anyone’s pity. Didn’t have any use for it. He’d made it his whole life without it and survived far worse things. And this wasn’t the first time he’d been separated from his favorite redhead.

As for the cups of green Jell-O being dropped next to his lunch tray—like he was a goddamn deity—those he accepted with slight nods of gratitude. And with every offering of Jell-O came friendly words of encouragement from his fellow inmates.

_“Sorry, man.”_

_“Hang in there, Milky.”_

_“It’ll get easier.”_

_“I actually kinda miss you two fuckers going at it.”_

The last one surprised Mickey, especially coming from Enzo, who was known for bitching and moaning about the level of noise seeping through the cinder blocks from cell A20.

But it had been quiet since Ian was released. Mickey’s new cellmate didn’t speak much English, so conversation between them was light and consisted mainly of grunts and hand gestures. The guy was middle-aged, Greek maybe, kept to himself, and didn’t seem to care that Mickey was a fucking slob. 

He’d gotten worse, actually, having hoarded some of Ian’s possessions. And he was practically building a fucking shrine to the ginger, with new sketches lining his wall every day and the ones he was unsatisfied with ending up in crumpled balls thrown into the corners of the cell.

“Why’s that, Enzo? Too quiet for you?” Mickey asked, eyebrow raised and the hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

“Aw, you know what I mean. Nobody likes change,” huffed Enzo as he took a seat across from Mickey and shoved his offering of Jell-O towards the growing collection. Mickey knew it pained the inmate to give up his dessert—the guy liked to eat. He had about 250 pounds on his 40-something year old frame. His parents always made sure he had money in his commissary account for extra snacks.

“Anyway, we’re all tired of seeing you moping around here. Pull yourself together, Milkovich.”

“Moping? I don’t fucking mope.” Mickey vehemently disagreed with this assessment. It had only been a week since Ian’s release, and they’d talked on the phone a few times. Sure, Ian hadn’t sounded great, but adjusting to life on the other side wasn’t easy. Mickey envied his freedom; he did not envy his shitty parole officer or the shitty Gallagher drama that Ian had to deal with on the daily. 

“How is your dude, anyway?”

“C’mon, man, you don’t give a fuck. Why are you in my business?”

Enzo actually looked wounded. “Look, I’ll be honest. The way you two would go at it, then kiss and make up...well, it was about the only entertainment in this hellhole. Then that conversation you had the night before Gallagher left—about loving him no matter what. Fuck, I teared up. We don’t see a lot of happy endings around here. I just wanted yours to be one of them.” 

Mickey continued to glare back at Enzo, not willing to let his guard down to this clown or anyone else. He couldn’t help it if the nosy bastard had been eavesdropping on his intimate moments with Ian. He didn’t owe him a damn thing. 

“Anyway,” continued the overly concerned inmate, “I was talking to one of Gallagher’s buddies from the infirmary. He had an idea for getting you outta here, you know, so that you two can be together.”

“The fuck?” Mickey was about done with this bullshit. He turned to his Jell-O and started devouring it by the spoonful. Was he living in some sort of alternate universe where inmates actually gave a shit about each other? 

But he knew exactly who Enzo was talking about. Julio. A youngish dude who Ian was mentoring. They’d been deemed “medical assistants” so that the prison could avoid hiring actual licensed personnel. Ian used to talk about how well he and Julio got on. Mickey probably would have been jealous of the guy had it not been for the fact that he was straighter than a metric ruler.

“So…” Enzo leaned in closer. “Do you wanna know his idea or not?”

“Fuck, no. This sounds like one big setup. Besides, when I’m ready to get the fuck outta here, I’ll figure it out my damn self.”

“Yeah, right. You’re a regular Einstein. I’ll just go ahead and tell you. The medical waste truck comes weekly. You could be on it one of these days.”

“Uh-huh. So, what’s in it for you? And spare me the bullshit about fucking fairy tale endings.”

“Fine. My mom’s been in the hospital. Commissary’s running low. Julio can get you out, and then you and Gallagher can make hefty deposits in both our accounts.”

“Where do you think they’ll come looking for me if I escape, dumbass? At Ian’s. I might as well wait it out, earn my freedom for real. Life on the run ain’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Enzo, swinging his leg over the bench and boosting himself on his feet. “We’ll see how long the kid waits for you this time.”

“Yo, man. Fuck you!” shouted Mickey as Enzo backed away from the table, prepared to shield himself in case Mickey decided to hurl some of cups of Jell-O in his direction.

Mickey already knew there were a couple of inmates taking bets on how long Ian would wait for him. Or when he’d stop accepting his calls. Or if he’d ever come to visit. What a bunch of nosy fucks. 

The thought of escaping had crossed his mind a couple of times already, though it had less to do with not trusting Ian and more with wanting to be there for the guy, considering his shitty circumstances. And it went without saying that Mickey wasn’t living the life he’d always dreamed of. Except he knew that escaping meant still not having his freedom, and he saw no need to try to convince Ian to go on the run again. 

But what if he could leave the joint for a few hours and then come back? Just check on Ian, maybe bang, and then return unnoticed? He’d never tried that one before. 

At dinner, Mickey waved Enzo over to his table, and surprisingly, he joined him without hesitation. As a peace offering, Mickey pushed his tray over to Enzo—there was still half of his grilled cheese sandwich and his entire bowl of tomato soup left, and as the older man began to stuff his face, Mickey muttered the idea he’d been mulling over.

“This is all hypothetical, but what if I was to get out via the medical waste scenario you suggested, but only for a few hours? The driver could act like he needed to come back for something and smuggle me back in?”

Enzo nearly choked on his spoonful of soup. “Smuggle you back in? That’s fucking stupid. Why would you come back?”

“Because I wanna see Gallagher, but I ain’t trying to have the entire state of Illinois and a fucking cartel on my ass for the rest of my life.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if Gallagher came here to visit you?”

“Of course, but his PO is a bitch. She won’t give him clearance.”

“I dunno, Milkovich. Seems like a lot of trouble for nothing. And you’d be missing at count.”

“Got that worked out,” Mickey explained. “I’ll get real fuckin’ sick at meal time, faint or some shit. The guards will send me to the infirmary, and Julio can vouch for me being in there. If anything goes sour, I’ll take the heat.”

Enzo still looked skeptical. “And how are you gonna afford all of this? With high risk comes a high price.”

“Let me worry about that. You just talk to Julio and see if he’s down for it. Let me know tomorrow, huh?”

Enzo nodded slowly as Mickey picked up his empty tray and dropped it at the return station. He figured this whole thing was far-fetched, but there was something about bucking the system that really got him going. And there was a handsome reward on the other side if this worked out. 

^^^^^^^^^^

 _Stay absolutely still. Don’t move an inch_ , Julio had told him. They’d managed to bury all of the sharps at the bottom of the medical waste bin and layer some blankets on top of the various needles and shards of broken glass for added protection. Mickey was crouched on top of the pile, boots first, trying not to breathe in the toxic whatever was in there, though he had to at some point.

Stuffed into the back of his uniform was a large wad of cash that several of the other inmates had pooled together. Enzo had put the word out that Mickey was in need of some additional funds, and much like the scene at the end of _A Wonderful Life_ that Mickey’s mom had forced them to watch every Christmas, the inmates had reached deep into their pockets to help one of their own—no questions asked. _This place really was fucking Disney World_ , thought Mickey, feeling every bump and every jolt as Julio wheeled him around the various corridors on their way to the loading dock at the far end of the prison. 

_This is for Ian. This is for Ian._ Mickey chanted this in his head over and over again, and his thoughts drifted to what his boyfriend might be doing at the moment. _Ian seated on the couch in the Gallagher living room, drinking a beer and trying to get a word in edgewise with his loud-mouthed siblings. Ian going up to his room for some peace and quiet while the tamale making and loud chatter in Spanish continued. Ian flinging himself down on his bed, tired from all of the disappointing bullshit that came with freedom, and then hearing the strange noise against his window. Ian going to inspect the noise and realizing who was standing down below with a smile plastered over his face. Ian—_

The trash bin came to a halt. Mickey could hear Julio trying to explain what he was doing so that the guard would let him pass. Then he heard something about an incinerator. _Oh, fuck._ The jig was up. Mickey’s heart sank, but he wasn’t going down in literal flames over this shit. He pounded on the sides of the bin. How was he going to talk his way out of this one?

^^^^^^^^^^

As it turned out, Mickey didn’t need to explain himself or rat out his co-conspirators. Apparently, he was set to be released at the end of the week due to his cooperation with the prosecution in the drug cartel case. And thanks to his antics with the medical waste bin and the liability he presented to the prison, Mickey was kept overnight in solitary and sent packing early the next morning.

He boarded the chartered bus in his street clothes, having said goodbye to that yellow eyesore romper, and hello again to his freedom. Well, he was almost free, other than having to worry about being stalked, murdered, and dismembered by a member of the cartel. But Mickey only had one thing on his mind at the moment. _Home._

And home wasn’t a place, it was a person. Thank fuck said person was alone in his old room at the Gallagher house, as though he had a sixth sense Mickey was about to bust through the window. God, when was the last time they’d been alone together in that room? 

Mickey went straight into Ian’s arms, eyes raking over his bare and somehow even more sculpted chest since the week prior. Clothes were quickly shed and tossed aside as naked limbs intertwined, and Ian gleefully waved the bottle of lube at Mickey. They were completely oblivious to whatever commotion was occurring in the rest of the house and careless with their noise level. _Ah, freedom._

When they came up for breath, Mickey shared the details of the past 24 hours with Ian, who promptly checked him for any injuries and cleaned the scrapes on his cheek. He nearly yelled at Mickey for being so irresponsible as to hide out in a pile of medical waste and chided him for the risky escape attempt. 

“Guess who gave me the idea in the first place?”

“No clue.”

“Fuckin’ Enzo.”

“Enzo? Guess he really wanted to be rid of us.” Ian laughed and wrapped his bare leg around Mickey’s legs, the soft hair on his upper thigh tickling Mickey’s skin.

“Your buddy Julio from the infirmary got in on it too.”

“No shit? He was always a good dude, maybe not the brightest guy if he thought you could pull this off.”

“We almost fuckin’ did. And Enzo raised some money for me to pay off the medical waste guy. Didn’t end up using it, so I’ll put it in their commissary accounts once we get settled here.”

“Yeah,” breathed Ian next to his ear. “We got a lot of settling to do.” The redhead was ready to go again.

After another round of making up for lost time, Ian dozed off with his chin pressed against Mickey’s shoulder, his soft breath a pleasant reminder of this new reality. Mickey had his life back, along with a seemingly harmless PO and possibly a target on his back, but after all was said and done, a series of questionable life decisions had led him right back where he belonged. And he was ready to face whatever adventure, or misadventure, was headed their way next.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks azuresky18 for beta-ing this. Here’s hoping for happiness for our boys!


End file.
